Here Be Monsters
by T'eyla Minh
Summary: Part 4 now up - COMPLETE. An alternative ending to the Locker scene with Governor Swann in AWE with a J/E bent. Elizabeth attempts to save her father, and she and Jack have some demons to face...
1. Part I

**HERE BE MONSTERS**

_**Summary:** An alternative ending to the sequence with Elizabeth's father in the locker in AWE. Elizabeth tries to save her father, and Jack has some demons to face._

_**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to Disney, and they can keep them. I'm just letting them out of the toybox. I have also borrowed the script to form the basis of this fic, and no infringement is intended._

_**Rating:** PG / K-plus, purely because I don't think angst should be anything less._

_**Spoilers: **At World's End, but probably not much else._

_**Pairing: **Mainly J/E with some minor W/E because it was there, really. At the point this is set, I couldn't really ignore Master Turner…_

_**Author's Notes:** This is my first story in this particular fandom – be nice! – and I don't rightly know where it came from… I was watching AWE for the second time, having finally got the DVD, and was quite disappointed to find out that my memory of the Locker scene with Elizbeth's father was completely different to what really happened – i.e. there wasn't as much J/E interaction as I had thought. So I've re-written it. :P_

_This starts off from the point in the film where Elizabeth spots her father, using the original dialogue, and then goes off on a tangent. I think it was Tia's warning that planted the idea, to be honest…_

_I picture the Sea of Souls as being a bit like the Swamps of Sadness from The Neverending Story, incidentally. Also, I must apologise for any horrible phonetic spelling. ;)_

_Without further ado, I hope you enjoy my little foray into this piratical world…_

**Here Be Monsters**

Part I

The end of the world was a dark and foreboding place, but Elizabeth doubted it should be any other way. It was for this reason that she considered it strange that Jack Sparrow's own private hell was a vast expanse of sunlit sand, considering their current path across the charcoal sea. But then, she realised, Jack's heaven would be an open ocean. Perhaps his hell was not so strange at all.

Beneath her feet, the _Pearl_ rocked and swayed gently with the waves, and she stared out to an invisible horizon, where – somewhere – the sea met the stars. The drifting souls below gave her a strange sort of comfort. Tia Dalma's sing-song voice drifted to her ears from further along the deck, telling the story of Davy Jones and the duty he was meant to serve. So, Jones had been a good man once, too; Elizabeth gave a derisive snort. _Bloody pirates_…

Ragetti spotted the oncoming boats first, and Elizabeth turned to look. Other crewmen moved to the railings to watch the small vessels approaching, and Gibbs began to load his pistol, cautious of a potential threat. Will stopped him, Tia confirming his suspicions that the occupants of the boats were not dangerous. They moved in ominous unison, pulled by some unseen force towards a destination unknown.

And then, Elizabeth spotted an all-too-familiar face amongst the cold, staring bodies. She leaned close to the railings, the better to see.

"It's my father!" she cried. "We've made it back!"

The landscape had not changed from only moments before, but Elizabeth's addled brain paid that no heed. She began to follow the boat along the deck of the ship, calling out.

"Father, here! Look here!"

He did not see her, at first, and she kept on walking, gaining some speed. Finding Jack in her way, she pushed past him impatiently. He took one step back, allowing her enough room to get through, and made no move to follow her.

"Elizabeth," he called quietly after her, "we're not back."

His soft explanation fell on deaf and ignorant ears. "Father!"

Finally, Weatherby Swann seemed to notice her, lifting his head and staring at her confusedly. "Elizabeth. Are you dead?"

A frown graced her features. "No… no."

Her father did not meet her eyes; his expression was blank. "I think I am."

Elizabeth would not accept that. After all, he was there in front of her, as plain as day. "No, you can't be!" She was running out of deck, her path now blocked.

Weatherby, deep in thought, attempted to make sense of the situation. "There was this chest, you see. And a heart. At the time it seemed so important…"

Reaching out, his daughter was not yet ready to give up. "Come aboard!"

He continued, oblivious. "I learned that if you stab the heart, yours must take its place. Sail the seas for eternity. The Dutchman must always have a captain. Silly thing to die for…"

"Someone cast a line!" Somebody handed her a rope, though she paid no attention to who it was. She threw it with all her strength, hitting the rowboat easily. To her dismay, her father ignored it completely. "Take the line!"

He looked at her then, for the first time. Something inside Elizabeth snapped – a sudden, awful realisation of what she saw in his eyes.

"Elizabeth, I'm so proud of you."

"Father, the line… take the line!"

She was losing him again, the brief eye contact broken once more. Screaming in hysterical determination, she ran towards the stern of the ship. Tia's voice sounded out – "She must not leave the ship!" – but before Will could reach her she had thrown herself from the railings.

The dark water pulled her underneath and for a moment, all on the ship were silent in horrible contemplation. Gibbs held Will back by the shoulders as he struggled to go after her, cursing and shouting her name, and Tia Dalma quietly scanned the surrounding area, whispering something nobody could understand. Jack had not moved, seemingly unaffected by the drama which was unfolding.

Suddenly, Elizabeth broke the surface, spluttering. A sigh of relief washed throughout the crew; Gibbs released his hold on Will. Elizabeth recovered quickly and swam over to her father's boat, drawing level and grasping the side. The wood was slimy and gave no purchase, and she was careful not to capsize it.

Will called after her: "Elizabeth!" and she ignored him.

"Father, come back with us," she pleaded. Gripping the boat with one hand, she reached with the other to clasp his. "I won't leave you."

Weatherby Swann's eyes had become glassy and distant, and his hand felt cold and clammy within hers. The line she had cast drifted slowly away from the boat and sank beneath the surface, disappearing into the murk. She was floating far from the _Pearl_ now, and the path of the rowboat seemed to be diverging away from the ship. Elizabeth squeezed her father's hand tighter, refusing to give up, and for the briefest of moments, he reciprocated. She felt a rush of sudden hope and began to kick furiously in an attempt to turn the boat around.

"I'll give your love to your mother, shall I?"

That was that. Accepting of his fate, Governor Swann stared dead ahead into the approaching gloom, and Elizabeth's attempts to focus his attention back on what was happening failed, each in turn. His hand slowly loosened its grip on hers and fell to his side.

"No…"

Gripping the side of the boat with both hands now, Elizabeth heaved… but the course was set and there was to be no breaking it. She lost her grip on the slimy wood, falling back into the waves, and could only watch as the army of lost souls sailed onwards in their endless journey, her father amongst them. She pushed forward in haste, but the cold water was taking its toll, slowing her down and dragging her deeper…

--

The assembled crewmates of the _Pearl_ were at a loss. Will, pacing the deck in frustration, was furious at the lack of action.

"Can't we do _something_?" he asked. Turning, he spotted Tia Dalma, marching towards her. "You," he said, poking her in the shoulder roughly. "_You_ brought us here. There must be a way."

Tia took a step back away from Will and looked at him with a dark expression. "Barbossa was de one who brought you here," she said, "not I. He be de one you should ask."

Before Will could utter another word, Barbossa had stepped in with arms raised placatingly, eager to remove the blame from himself. "Aye, 'tis true I brought ye here, but I'm not the one who knows these waters. There's not a man _alive_ knows these waters. In fact, I'd say that be the point."

Tia was being deliberately unhelpful, it seemed. "I told her not to jump," she explained. "Once a man is taken by de Sea of Souls, he gahn foreva."

Will shook her angrily. "I don't believe you. You're lying."

Tia's eyes flashed fire. "Get yuh hands off meh, William Turner, or you'll be joinin yuh pretty gyal in dat ocean. And den dere be no way to save yuh both."

Maintaining his grip, Will realised what she was implying. "So there _is_ a way?"

"Dis one time… perhaps." She had an idea which was struggling to come to full fruition, and needed more time.

Will released her, turning away to the railings. Elizabeth was some way off now, still afloat but obviously beginning to struggle. She had made no effort to return to the ship and was drifting with the tide in the direction of the boats.

"Please," he said, quieter this time. "Please think."

Tia Dalma began to stroll the deck almost casually, her expression thoughtful. There was no sound except the jangling from her beads and trinkets. She stared intently at each crewman in turn, dismissing them one by one. Each man breathed a sigh of relief as she examined them, and moved on.

On reaching Jack, Tia stopped. She raised herself to her full height and looked him up and down, quietly contemplating. Jack allowed the examination of his person for a while, but soon grew suspicious and repeated the treatment to Tia, before eventually interjecting with a "What?"

She clapped her hands with a small laugh. "Dere be a way."

_To be continued…_

_**A/N: **This was meant to be a one-shot, but I am too superfluous. ;) I don't think it'll end up too long, but for the moment, please be so kind as to leave some feedback._

_PS: I know I'm not accepting anonymous reviews, and there's a very good reason for that if you'd be so good as to check my profile – please don't tell me what I already know. Thanking you._


	2. Part II

**Here Be Monsters**

_**Disclaimer, etc: **__As on first chapter_

_**This chapter: **__Just what is Tia Dalma's plan, and will it come in time to save Elizabeth?_

_**A/N:**__ Just a great big THANK YOU to Lalia X for her hints on Tia Dalma's accent, and for correcting her lines in the last chapter and this one. I have edited the first chapter accordingly and can now post this one. :D_

_That being said – here it is…_

Part II

Elizabeth felt nothing except the bleak emptiness within her heart, creeping through her veins like a spider and making everything it touched as cold as ice. The small boats were long gone, the lonesome souls with them. With the final squeeze of her father's hand in hers, she had seen his death.

A shiver ran through her as the icy water began to take its toll. She had lost sight of the _Pearl_ in the darkness, and was disinclined to swim any further ahead or back. Instead, she floated aimlessly with the sea's current, mindless of where it might take her. There was nowhere she wanted to be. The emptiness touched her fingertips, her toes, the base of her spine, it slithered into her mind, her soul, her very being, and she gradually began to lose all sense of hope or joy.

_I'm going to die,_ she thought.

And so, she closed her eyes.

--

Will withdrew from the railings and turned to face the witch, his panic starting to rise once more when he noticed Elizabeth appeared to have stopped dead in the water, making no effort to swim back to them or indicate for help. Tia Dalma was Elizabeth's only hope now, and as yet her solution had not been forthcoming.

"Tell me."

"Any mahn who jains de Sea of Souls," Tia explained, "is overcome with desperation and sadness. He go lose all sense of joy or life, and eventually, he go drift away."

"That's why she's not moving, then," interjected Jack unhelpfully, earning a glare from Will. "Might I suggest you get on with it?"

"No man here can save her," she continued, "except fah one. Dat man is already dead, and have not'ing tah lose. De Sea will not affect him as it do other people."

In systematic realisation, all eyes turned to Jack. In turn, he also understood what Tia Dalma was trying to say. He was the only one who could save Elizabeth now, the only one who could go after her in that dark, foreboding ocean and come back unscathed.

"I don't know why you're all looking at me," he said.

"I don't know," repeated Will in a mocking tone, "why you're still standing there…" He began to approach the pirate, one hand reaching for his sword. He was more than willing to fight Jack into submission over the matter, if that was what it took.

Barbossa was getting impatient. "Jaaack. Just save the lovely Miss Swann from certain desperation, and be quick about it. We've been here too long already."

"I don't see why I should," he countered, petulantly. "She's the one who put me in this god- and rum-forsaken place."

"Because if you don't," said Will, "we'll just have to leave you here."

Jack cast an unwilling glance to the ever-more-distant figure of Elizabeth. She was no longer treading water and seemed to be unconscious, barely floating on the surface. Will's face was thunderous, and entirely serious. Jack had still not forgiven the girl for her despicable trick in sending him to the Locker, and if the choice was his, he'd happily let her drown.

_Ah, but would you, Jack?_ said a voice in his head. _It would be an awful shame…_

He gave a heavy sigh. "Well, I wouldn't want you to have a wasted journey," he muttered, and set about removing his cutlass, pistol and hat. "I'm gettin' a bit sick of saving your bloody girl from drowning." He climbed the railings. "Don't touch me effects." And jumped.

The water was colder than he would have imagined and, like Elizabeth, it took a while for him to recover. Tia called out for him to hurry, and he set off towards Elizabeth as fast as he was able. Some more souls had begun to float through the area; they eddied around him effortlessly, as though he were a troublesome rock in their path. Jack shuddered involuntarily against a sudden wave of hopelessness, and pressed onwards.

His suspicion was confirmed upon reaching her: she was barely conscious and not moving. He wrapped one arm securely around her small frame, pulling her back against his chest, and began to haul her towards the _Pearl_. Against the flow of souls, their progress was slow and difficult.

The movement roused Elizabeth a little and her eyes drifted open. Half-awake and confused, and despite facing away, she recognised Jack by the tattooed and branded arm secured about her shoulders.

"Jack… what…?"

"Shush now, love," he told her, the endearment rolling effortlessly off his tongue without thought. "Don't try to swim."

Now aware of her surroundings, Elizabeth began to struggle against him. "Leave me."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen. More than my life's worth." Her struggling grew more frantic, her legs flailing, and Jack merely tightened his grip. She managed to catch him in the back of the leg and he faltered, both of them dropping like stones. Almost losing his hold on her under the water, it took all of his strength to break the surface again.

Spluttering, he performed a mental check that she was still breathing, then tightened his iron grip enough to squeeze that breath out of her.

"Do you want us both to drown?"

"Perhaps I do," she said. "And you're already dead, remember, so what difference would it make?" She gave a few more hefty kicks and a squirm to try and free herself from his grasp, tugging at his arm with her hands, to no avail. "I said _leave me_!"

"And I said no."

Something seemed to calm her, a sudden memory, a realisation. For a moment he feared she was crying, but with water dripping down her face, it was difficult to tell. "My father…" she whispered.

"He's gone."

She stopped struggling and relaxed, and Jack tried to finish the journey as quickly as possible. Elizabeth's eyes drifted closed again, and she gave up her battle. As they approached the _Pearl_ and the darkness began to abate, he noticed she had an eerie, blue pallor to her skin. Another few minutes, and he would have been too late to save her.

_Still rather she was dead, Jack? _said the voice again. He tried to ignore it, but the reality was harder to block out.

The crew had dropped a dinghy, anticipating that Elizabeth would not be capable of climbing the rope. Gibbs was heading the men, waiting skittishly until they could pull the boat aboard.

"Hurry, Cap'n," he urged as they grew close. "Tia's workin' on a potion, for Lizzie."

"For de cold, and de sadness," came the affirmation from on deck, a strange echo of her words after their escape from the Kraken.

Finally, Jack reached the dinghy and piled Elizabeth ungracefully inside it, hauling himself in after her. Gibbs gave a signal and the men heaved the dinghy upwards.

The blueness of her skin was making Jack exceedingly uncomfortable. Guilt, perhaps, or another emotion he couldn't identify. He could admit he was worried now; her breathing was laboured and harsh, each rasping breath slicing through the air and reminding him, repeatedly, that he'd almost willingly left her for dead. Staring his own death in the face was one thing; he did not want to witness hers, especially when he could have prevented it.

They moved up the final few inches, and Jack gathered Elizabeth into his arms to get her aboard. William was agitated, trying not to panic, as Jack clambered carefully on deck with his precious, freezing burden. Will leapt forward out of instinct, glimpsed her appearance, and recoiled again.

"Oh, my God…"

"Calm down, lad, she's not dead. Or wasn't a few seconds ago, at any rate."

Tia had laid a blanket on the floor, some rags for a pillow, and candles, with her strange concoction contained in a bowl in her hand. "Make room," she said. "Lay her down here, Jack."

He did as requested, laying her out carefully on the blanket, and then stepped back. Will rushed forward and fell to his knees beside her, grasping her pale, cold hand with a gasp, and stroking her forehead. Tia carefully supported Elizabeth's head and fed her the potion, and Will covered her with his coat.

Jack realised he was no longer needed, and stepped away into the shadows.

"She will sleep now," explained Tia to a concerned Will. "You can move her somewhere more comfortable. When she awake, she must drink dis." She handed him a bottle. "To stop de haunting."

Will thanked her and pocketed the bottle, then carefully lifted Elizabeth from the floor. Barbossa pointed towards one of the cabins. "I daresay the Captain would not begrudge the lass a good night's sleep…"

Will looked towards Jack, who was leaning against the mast, carefully repositioning his hat on his head. Jack met the boy's gaze for a moment and hoped that he would accept the gesture as the apology he intended it to be. "Aye, that I would not."

With a grateful nod, Will disappeared into the cabin.

_To be continued…_

_**A/N: **From here on out the rest of the fic is entirely Jack/Liz centric, so that's the last we'll see of the rest of the crew, I'm afraid. I'm sure nobody's complaining, though. ;) Reviews are lovely, thankyouplease._


	3. Part III

**Here Be Monsters**

_**This chapter: **__Jack and Elizabeth, on the deck of the Pearl, battle with bitter memories._

_**A/N:**__ Okay, this chapter is quite long in comparison to the first two, as is the next one. Also, I'm sorry to say this is the penultimate chapter, unless anything else whacks me in the head for this particular scene… For the moment, however, I hope you enjoy the further J/E-ness. :)_

Part III

She awoke, woozy and chilled, in an unfamiliar bed. Her hair had been released from its tight braid and was uncomfortably damp beneath her head and back. Instinctively, she drew the cover further over herself with an involuntary shiver, and one deep breath told her more than mere words ever could. That scent of sea water and rum was unmistakable. _Jack…_

Elizabeth opened her eyes slowly, allowing herself to acclimatise to her surroundings. The room was dimly lit by a single, dwindling lantern, but her suspicion was confirmed. She was most definitely in Jack Sparrow's cabin, in Jack Sparrow's bed – but there appeared to be no sign of the Captain himself, so the latter was not as ominous as it otherwise might have been. Still cold, she drew her knees to her chest; a weathered coat was beneath the blanket, one she recognised as Will's. Her throat was parched, with a strange, lingering taste, somehow both bitter and sweet. She cast her gaze around the room for some kind of clue as to her predicament, but found nothing.

A sudden snore caused her to start, her head snapping towards the noise. For the first time, she spotted William, dozing in a chair. He looked uncomfortable, but was seemingly fast asleep.

Wide awake now, Elizabeth cautiously swung her legs out of the bed – noting with some relief that she remained completely fully clothed – and rose to stand. Her legs felt weak, but she was able to support her own weight. Shrugging into Will's coat, she moved to place the discarded blanket over him, then quietly headed out onto the deck.

The ship was deserted, drifting ever aimlessly through the dark waters of Davy Jones's Locker. The air was still and ambient, and yet she shuddered, pulling the coat tighter around herself. Very gradually, her memories of what had happened were returning. She felt somehow drawn to the railings of the ship, to the water beyond.

Hidden in the shadows, a figure watched her, silent and still.

The sea was calm and eerie, and black as pitch. Above her head, the stars formed a myriad constellations she did not recognise, no more a navigational aid than merely scenery. A sigh escaped her chest, bringing forth with it the echo of distant voices.

"_It's my father… We've made it back!"_

"_Elizabeth. Are you dead?"_

"_There was this heart, you see… Silly thing to die for…"_

"_I won't leave you."_

"_I'll give your love to your mother…"_

Of course. Now she remembered. Her father was gone, doomed to sail the ocean for all eternity… and she had tried to save him, and failed. Overwhelmed with unprecedented emotion, Elizabeth felt hot tears course down her face beyond her control. She swiped at them angrily, but the flow continued, a ragged sob tearing from her throat as the images came unbidden of her father's final moments, etched forever into her memory after their brief, final touch…

--

_The shackles chafe, but that's the least of his worries. The boson – barely human – kneads his precious whip between his hands in eager anticipation, waiting for a sign from Jones – or from Beckett. The imposing captain of the _Dutchman_ stands to the side, playing no part; he has no gripe with the Governor, and this is not his war._

_Lord Cutler Beckett stands before him with a condescending and threatening calm. "You know too much, Governor Swann," he says. "We can't have that. I'm afraid there's only one way to ensure your silence." With that, he steps away. A nod to Jones for him to continue._

_The _Dutchman_'s crew crowd around with sneers and gleeful snarls, though one, perhaps, lingers back behind the others. A starfish obscures one half of his face, and in some strange way, Weatherby finds him awfully familiar. The crewman disappears behind the boson, who bares his teeth in anticipation, and the Governor stares back into the cold, unfeeling eyes. He will not show emotion._

_Moments later, the crew ebb back, scattering to make a path for their formidable Captain. Jones kneels and leans close, his rancid breath billowing over Weatherby's face. The tentacles surrounding Jones's features move of their own volition, tracing a slimy path down his cheek. The action makes bile rise in his throat, but he manages to hold back the surge of nausea, and stares the monster in the face._

"_Do you fear death, Governor Swann…?"_

--

A heavy footstep startled her, and she gasped and span to face the predator. Elizabeth faced none other than Jack Sparrow, now raising his hands in defence, perhaps in anticipation of being hit. Letting out a breath she had not realised was being held, Elizabeth stared at him for a moment. Her face was tear-streaked, but she made no effort to hide the fact.

"Oh," she said. "It's you."

She turned away again, back to the sea.

Jack lowered his arms and assessed the situation. He had not intentionally set out to watch her, nor even to talk to her, and had been out on the deck in lieu of being able to sleep down below. Hammocks did not suit him, and nor did the snoring of his crew. He had been quietly enjoying his solitude – alas, without the brain-numbing powers of good rum – when Elizabeth had awoken and joined him.

She did not seem to be trying to get away from him, so he took a few slow steps closer. When he reached her side, whatever remained of her female vanity then forced her to scrub her face with her hands.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," he said, not certain how else to proceed.

She turned her head to glare at him, her eyes sparkling with as yet unshed tears. "My father's dead," she said simply.

"Yes," he agreed. "And hence you have every right to mourn him. I just thought I'd check you were all right."

"I'm just _fine_," she snarled, and turned away again.

Jack watched her for a moment, thoughtfully. She was wiping her face with irritated gestures, still unable to cease the flow of tears.

He spoke softly. "You've every right to grieve, 'Lizabeth."

This only seemed to make her angrier, however, and she rounded on him again. "I didn't ask for your permission," she spat. "And I don't want your compassion."

She didn't wait for him to respond, and marched to the other side of the ship, resuming the same position as before and staring out to sea. Jack considered his next move carefully. He'd never seen her like this before, so embittered and difficult. He moved as close as he dared before speaking again, to be sure she was still within easy earshot. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene and wake the crew, and there was also Will to consider, asleep as he was so nearby.

"That's some gratitude," he muttered. "Next time I shan't hesitate to throw you off the ship meself."

Elizabeth turned to face him, eyes red-rimmed but glowering. "Go right ahead, Captain Sparrow," she offered. "Dead men tell no tales, isn't that how it goes?"

"Aye, so it is."

"Well? What are you waiting for?" She spread her arms wide, making herself an easier target, and stood close to the railings, taunting him. "Come on, then. Just one push, Jack. Just one." She pushed herself up and sat on the rail, leaning backwards. "Here, I'll even make it easy for you."

"Ah, and it _would_ be so easy," he told her, "except for me bloody conscience." (Said conscience was at that precise moment standing on his shoulder and lecturing him on the very negative consequences if he were to push her over the edge.) "Why don't you come down from there, hm? There might be a nasty accident, and I'm not sure as I'm in the mood to jump ship and save you again."

Elizabeth twisted to look down at the waves below, lapping at the hull of the ship. The urge to plunge herself into the ocean grew stronger minute by minute; it seemed to call out to her, _"Join us, dearie…"_, to beckon her with its sea-foam fingers. She was no longer angry with Jack for his concern; she felt barely anything except a bleak, dark, overwhelming sadness. The images of her father's final moments kept replaying through her mind, every emotion, every sensation and action. Every time she felt his heart stop, her own would contract with guilt and painful reminiscence.

The only thing that Elizabeth felt any relief about was that her father had not been scared. He had faced his destiny with courage and dignity in spite of the situation, and she felt in some way that he had won that battle, at least. He had not even answered Jones's rehearsed question; and no – he did not fear death. Staring into the murky water, she found she did not fear death, either. How easy it would be just to let herself fall…

Jack had taken a few steps forward now, panic starting to rise: Elizabeth was craning her neck to look beneath her, leaning further back – a few more inches and she would lose her balance. Finally, he could take it no longer; he leapt forward to pull her roughly from the railing, his hand encircling her wrist. The action startled her and she gave a small shriek, landing heavily and awkwardly on the deck, and Jack pulled her upright. He kept a firm grip on her arm, holding it an uncomfortable angle in the hope that some physical pain might break through her emotional agony.

Elizabeth struggled for a moment, but realised it was futile as Jack held her fast. When her gaze met his, there was nothing in her eyes except black emptiness and his own reflection. There was no familiar spark of challenge or mischievous twinkle, and it was more terrifying than he'd ever have imagined. There had to be some way of breaking through her barrier of sadness. Perhaps he could puncture through the haze by igniting her temper; even that would be better than nothing.

He tried to keep his emotions in check, but even so, a hint of bitterness escaped when he said: "You killed me."

Elizabeth's lips set into a grim line. "Yes," she agreed. "And you saved my life."

"Yes."

Their close proximity was awfully familiar. For a moment, the only sound was their breathing, the lapping of the waves below. Jack was trying to focus on preventing her from leaping from the ship again, but the memory came unbidden of the very reason they were here. The ghost of her kiss hung between them like a veil. It would be easy – too easy, in fact – to repay her in kind… Except there was nothing behind her eyes, and Jack could not bring himself to do it.

"_I'm not sorry…" _That was what she had said to him. In the days since his death, Elizabeth had run those words through her mind and tried to make sense of them. A part of her was devastated, missing Jack horribly and trying to assuage her guilt. Another part – the logical part, she presumed – was still not sorry. She wanted to believe he was a good man, but she had not trusted him to stay with the _Pearl_. Given time, she was certain she might have been able to convince him… but there had not been any seconds to spare for idle discussion.

Her distraction had worked, and that was part of the problem. It had been a horrible trick to play on him, but she could see no other way. She had manacled him to the mast without thinking, and only when the action was done did she understand it was the only way to make him cooperate. Even then, there was a niggling guilt. She could not bring herself to admit what she'd done to Jack's faithful crew, so joined them in their mourning.

Elizabeth was absolutely certain that Jack would never forgive her. He had certainly been trying to avoid her since their finding him. If she were in the same position, she would have felt rescuing her own murderer to be an ironic, even pointless gesture. Standing before Jack now, trapped in his unrelenting grasp, she couldn't understand what had possessed him to go after her.

"You should have left me for dead, Jack."

"That," he said, "was my intention. But stupid bloody Will would only have gone instead, and he would have met the same fate you almost did."

Elizabeth felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes again, this time from utter frustration. She tried to blink them away and averted her face, but Jack had noticed nonetheless. Content now that she was safe – for the moment, at least – he slackened his vice-like grip on her wrist, letting her arm fall back to its natural position. Keeping the girl in discomfort would certainly not help matters, he supposed.

Her head had dropped and she was staring at her feet, her shoulders hunched. She was still far too close to the railings for Jack's liking: a couple of steps backwards and unsteady footing would see the end of her. He let his fingertips drift against her hand, the most fleeting of touches.

"Elizabeth…"

Perhaps it was the touch; perhaps the softness of his tone. Either way, she lifted her face to his, the unshed tears shining in her eyes.

"Come away from the edge, darling."

There was a slight change in her expression, a consent of sorts, but she made no effort to move. Physical force had worked before, and it would have to do so again. He held out his hand to her as if she were a child; she stared at it for a second, then took it.

Jack walked backwards, pulling her gently, and she followed. Just a few steps, but it was enough. In the middle of the _Black Pearl_'s deck, they remained. Elizabeth felt dazed and beaten, drained of all her energy and overwhelmed – still – by that same pervading sense of sadness and despair. She was thinking of her father again, of his death, and of better times: her childhood in England, the long journey to Port Royal which had seemed to last an eternity, and her teenage years in the Caribbean sun. She tried to pinpoint when their lives had changed so much, why so-called politics were so intrinsically linked with piracy (which was the greater evil, she wondered?), and when her life had become so entwined with Jack Sparrow's, the pirate she had read about in her youth.

Her father had not deserved his cold, cruel fate, and Elizabeth felt entirely to blame. She was the one who had gotten them both involved with pirates – not just once, but twice – and now she felt as though she should have left well alone. Her desire for adventure and freedom had only led to death and destruction for those she cared about. She realised too late that there was no room for childish, selfish passions in the real world, and that mistakes were not fixed through bitter tears and tantrums.

Jack had released her hand now, no longer concerned – especially as she did not seem inclined to move. He considered pointing her in the direction of his cabin and giving her a gentle, persuasive shove, except he was struck that there might be more still to come in the mysterious drama unfolding before him. He scratched his head thoughtfully. The Sea's devastating effects had taken their toll quite severely on Elizabeth; perhaps he had been too late, after all.

It was then that he remembered Tia Dalma's potion – the small bottle she given to William. "To stop de haunting", or so she'd said. Where had the whelp put the blasted thing? Jack wracked his brain… the pocket! The pocket of his coat! And said coat was draped heavily on Miss Swann's delicate shoulders!

Without thinking, he reached for it. The movement startled her and she grabbed for his arm to fend him off. In the brief skirmish which followed, he pulled her fingers from his arm and held them fast, and resumed his search for the bottle against her confused struggles – "Keep still, Lizzie, I'm tryin' to help you!" – grabbed it, held it aloft, and squeezed her hand in triumph without thought.

In the next second, she pulled from his grasp as though suddenly burnt; her face went a horrible, deathly white; and she fled.

_To be continued…_

_**A/N: **I have no idea when the (possibly) last chapter will actually get here, because as yet I'm still finishing it off… Er, sorry. For now, let me know what you thought of this bit._


	4. Part IV

**Here Be Monsters**

_**This chapter: **__What's going on with Elizabeth? Can Jack save her in time?_

_**A/N: **__Here's the fourth and final chapter. I apologise for the delay in getting this up. The majority of it was written for quite some time, but the Muses ran off before I could actually finish it. Inspiration struck, however, so here it is._

_I'm sorry there's not more, but this was only meant to be a one-shot in the first place. I write less often than I used to, so when the opportunity arises I find there are too many words to express._

_Anyway, without further ado…_

Part IV

_It's the smell which hits first. That stink of rotting flesh and stale, rancid brine, the unmistakable odour of long-dead fish. The slime from the creature's belch is nothing compared to the horror of its breath. From deep within echo distant ghostly voices, screaming and howling in agony and terror, begging mercy from the unending torture._

_Marching into the belly of the Beast, sword drawn (for all the good it'll do), and the smell grows ever stronger. A sticky, humid warmth emanates from deep down in the creature's throat, a deep tunnel with no light at the end._

_But the smell, the fetid stench of death, pales in comparison to the pain. Row after row of razor-sharp teeth come biting down, rending flesh from bone, crunching and chewing and ripping and crushing, and the darkness at the bottom of that awful pit draws ever nearer…_

--

He found her easily enough. She hadn't managed to get very far on the deck and was huddled at the helm, her arms about her knees, shaking violently. If she was crying, it was silent; Jack didn't need to hear it.

The bottle of potion was still clasped in his hand, and he tucked it into his belt for the time being, securing it from her potentially flailing arms. She'd already caused enough harm that way for one night.

For a moment, he wasn't certain how to proceed, and half-considered fetching the boy. If Elizabeth was inconsolable, Jack was hardly the one to attempt the consoling in question. But then there was the other difficulty of explaining to Will why she was in such a state, when he himself didn't rightly know either.

Jack heaved a long sigh, and crouched to her level.

"Elizabeth…"

He reached for her trembling shoulder, but at the barest touch, she flinched and scuttled backwards, away from him, until she collided with something solid and unyielding. She hit the base of the wheel, and the sting of physical discomfort at her spine broke through her haze of insanity, just enough that she was able to focus on Jack and remember what had happened.

"Don't touch me," she said in a hushed and reverent tone. "Not again. Oh, God…"

Her head bowed again, trying to avoid his questioning gaze, but Jack was not having it.

"Oi. Lizzie. Stop that now. Come on." His cajoling did not work, so he tried a more direct approach. "At least tell me what just happened."

At first, he thought she wouldn't answer, but then she began to speak, slowly and quietly.

"I saw his death," she told him. "My father's. In the water, when I took his hand… I saw it through his own eyes, as if I were right there. It was Beckett. Beckett and Jones… But he wasn't afraid…" She stopped for a moment, and swallowed, fighting back the demons which had come to haunt her once again. Just as quickly, fresher agony replaced them.

Then she looked at Jack, and said: "I didn't realise. The Kraken. That terrible smell… and the pain. Dear Lord above, the _pain_…"

"_I'm not sorry…" _Those words again, echoing through her brain mockingly. It sounded heartless to her ears now, although she knew at one time it had been the truth. Her heart was overflowing with ugly guilt as she stared at him – he was exactly as he should have been, with no more scars to speak of except those she knew were imprisoned behind those dark, impenetrable eyes…

She choked on the lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry."

As Jack looked at her, he knew she meant it. He'd realised now what had happened to her, what the Sea of Souls had done to her. Somehow, her swim in that foreboding ocean had granted her the unenviable ability to see the death of those around her; she had fled at the touch of his palm, tightly to hers, in that unintentional gesture, which her father must surely also have done. The death of Governor Swann must have been a bitter enough shock; his own fate at the jaws of the Kraken was an experience he would rather have spared her.

Those two heartfelt words were almost his undoing. He had been expecting – hopefully, perhaps – an apology, but was fully prepared not to believe it. Elizabeth was wily and clever and could wrap him around her little finger if he would let her, and he most certainly was _not_ going to let her… Except he had not anticipated her seeing his death, and he knew her words were sincere from the glassy darkness of her eyes.

She needed to drink the medicine, before it was too late. His crew had all died at one point or another – all those years as the walking dead, shot at and run through and all manner of other misfortunes – and he felt sure another vision would break her, no matter how accidentally. He had to draw closer in order to give her the bottle, without frightening her.

He tried to make light of the situation, for her sake.

"I've been through worse scrapes in me time than the bowels of some giant Beastie," he assured her. "I've come through it unscathed – you didn't find me all chewed to bits, now, did you?"

"I… I suppose not."

She was more alert. Good. He cautiously plucked the medicine from his belt and offered it to her.

"You need to drink it," he said, in answer to her silent question.

She turned it over in her hands, watching the contents slosh around. "Rum?"

"Unfortunately not. If there were rum on board this ship, d'you really think I'd give it up?" For the first time, there was the barest flicker of light in her eyes, the slightest hint of a smile. "Tia Dalma made it for you. She says it should help."

Elizabeth eyed the concoction warily. Anything had to be better than the overwhelming sense of weary, listless nothingness, even if the strange brew poisoned her. Uncorking the bottle, she sniffed it, recoiled, then bravely downed it in one.

Nothing immediately obvious seemed to happen.

"Well?" he asked. "Feel any better?"

"I'm not sure. I feel…"

She stopped, eyes wide. One hand came up to clamp over her mouth, and she leapt to her feet and bent over the side.

"Lizzie?" Jack scrabbled to stand in panicked haste; he'd been here once already. What good was the potion if she was just going to throw herself…

She vomited: a black, viscous liquid the colour and consistency of ink. The urge hit again, wracking her body, but nothing more came. She breathed deeply, then stood back. Jack's intention was to give her some space, but then her knees buckled beneath her and she fell on him ungracefully. He caught her and held her upright, as she clung to his shirt with white-knuckled fists, and it took more strength than he thought he possessed not to take her in his arms and hold her tight to him. Somehow, he resisted; after a while, her legs supported her own weight once more and she released her iron grip.

A memory struck; a conversation.

"_I love those moments… I like to wave at them as they pass by."_

He considered this was a moment he should not have let pass by.

"I think I'm all right now," she said, flexing muscles which felt stiff and tired. Her memory of the past few minutes was starting to blur at the edges. She could only remember darkness and misery, and a few vague images which made no sense any more. She knew how her father had met his demise – and Jack his – but the picture was not so vivid in her mind's eye any more.

She stared at the Captain, searching his expression. Beneath the façade of bravado, she saw relief. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, but not one of them would take precedence over the other in his brain. In the end, he settled on something safe.

"It's still a couple of hours until daybreak. You should get some rest."

Elizabeth searched his face for a moment, but gave a nod and began to descend the steps again. Jack followed, but halted at the top, watching her. Elizabeth turned when she reached the bottom, looking thoughtful and vaguely troubled. She opened her mouth to speak, then decided against whatever it was she intended to say.

"Thank you."

He brushed it off with a nonchalant wave of his hand and a grin. "'Twas nothing."

"You didn't have to stay."

"Perhaps not. But I did."

"Yes."

A chasm seemed to be opening up between them, an awkwardness which neither had anticipated. Elizabeth nodded her thanks again, before heading back towards Jack's cabin, back to her sleeping fiancé. She stopped again, halfway across the deck, but did not turn to face him this time.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, Jack," she said, "and I won't presume to ask for it." Her eyes prickled, but Elizabeth knew they were selfish, childish tears, not any lingering effect of the Sea. "I hope you can accept my apology."

Jack heard the slight hitch to her voice, despite her best efforts to hide it, and he moved as quickly and silently as a cat.

"Elizabeth…"

She jumped out of her skin at his sudden appearance behind her, and span to face him. Words seemed to fail him once they were before each other, the sight of the tears glistening in her eyes silencing Jack instantly. Somehow, her desolation had been easier to deal with – at least there was a cure for that. It was better to see the life back in her eyes, but when the grief was real, from deep within her, he was at a loss as to how to continue.

Jack raised a hand as though to touch her face, hesitated, and pulled it away again. Elizabeth found herself leaning in to his imminent caress, only to feel bitter disappointment when there was only air in its place. Instead, Jack toyed with the tendrils of hair at her shoulder, glad to discover that she hadn't chopped it off as part of her disguise. The boys' clothes were quite bad enough.

"I do," he said eventually. Elizabeth did not push for an explanation to that cryptic answer, but after a moment he clarified: "Accept your apology."

She smiled a little, his acceptance granting a small comfort to her. Then she moved forward, her hands on his chest and her head resting against his shoulder. She did not expect any reciprocation of the gesture, and was not surprised when Jack merely froze, his arms just far enough apart so as not to make contact. After her earlier experience, she craved some form of human warmth and realness, some kind of grounding in reality.

"I want to earn your forgiveness, Jack," she whispered. "No matter what it takes. Just tell me what I can do."

A small thrill ran through her as his arms rested around her, though it was only for a matter of seconds. Just as soon, he was holding her away from him, his expression serious.

He wanted to tell her the things she could do, but they would all become her downfall. She was not a pirate's moll, as much as she fooled him into thinking as much. She had a life of high society to return to when all was said and done, and she had a boy not ten feet away who was fully prepared to marry her.

_Stay with me_, he wanted to say. _Stay with me and all is forgiven._ The words refused to form. Perhaps it was for the best.

However, Elizabeth's imploring eyes demanded an answer. He was even a little afraid of her reply, if he should say what he was thinking. Her refusal would only be right and proper, but if she were to accept… the thought actually made him slightly giddy. Steeling himself, Jack said the only thing which seemed remotely sensible.

"There's nothing you can do, Lizzie. Nothing at all. You needn't worry yourself."

Elizabeth seemed to understand that he was trying to offer his forgiveness without having to say the words.

"That's good, then."

They shared a smile, the atmosphere on the deck now lighter.

"Now," he said, pulling himself up and standing straight, "as the Captain of this fine vessel, I'm afraid I must order you to your cabin."

"It's _your_ cabin, Jack."

"For the moment, it's yours."

Elizabeth gave a small shrug and a half-hearted salute – "Aye, Captain," – and took the final few steps to the cabin door. She stopped for a moment before opening it, gazing at their surroundings once more, remembering with some reluctance the events of only minutes ago.

She shuddered a little.

"I want to get out of this place," she told him. "We found what we came for. We rescued you. I thought that would be it… I thought…" She trailed off with a small sigh, looking at him imploringly. "I _need_ to get out of here, Jack."

"I'll find a way, Lizzie."

Her expression was grateful and relieved; there were only so many thanks she could say before the words became meaningless, so she said nothing. When she turned for the last time, she pushed open the cabin door and disappeared into its dim interior.

Jack watched the closed door for a moment. He breathed in deeply, the crushing pressure around his heart beginning to loosen its vice-like grip, and let the gentle rocking of the _Pearl _bring him back to something resembling sanity. The madness of the Locker was fresh in his memory, and would probably always remain. For now, he had something else to focus on: getting everyone back to the real world before anyone else succumbed to the Sea of Souls. He had promised her, in his own way, and Jack was nothing if not a man of his word.

He took a few steps forward, and placed his palm to the cabin door. It was silent from within.

"Sleep well, Elizabeth."

-FIN-

_**A/N: **Please let me know what you thought of the fic. I've tried to end it so it fits vaguely back into the film, so even though the scene plays out differently at the start, it can be a 'missing scene' type story._

_Dunno if that worked, to be honest. :P In any case, Your Opinions Matter..._

_I don't know if I'll be inspired to write in the Pirates-verse again, but feel free to check out my profile for other fandoms._

_Farewell for now, me hearties…_


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